


Never hang a Wizard

by Emdee



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Gen, Pack, Sharing a Body, Wizards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-18
Updated: 2012-12-18
Packaged: 2017-11-21 12:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/597585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emdee/pseuds/Emdee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I think that Doctor Deaton told you to be careful. That there was something worse than werewolves or lizards in Beacon Hills. He was right. And you, dear hunters, just woke me up."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never hang a Wizard

**Author's Note:**

> Written and set post 2x09. Non canon-compliant for the end of the season.

" _To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy's resistance without fighting_ ".

Fuck, Stiles didn't even want to know what it could mean that he now knew way way waaaaaayyyy too many Sun Tzu quotations. Fuck _the_ _Art of War_. Especially since the Argent made too good an use of it.

Well, he supposed it was always better to be freaking angry at Sun Tzu than to fall to his knees and cry. Because he didn’t have the slightest clue of what else to do.

Stiles looked at the wolves - _his_ wolves, _his_ pack - and felt his heartbeat accelerating once again - but this time not out of adrenaline, or pain, or joy. No, this time, they were well and truly fucked. 

 

Peter freaking Hale had managed to get control of both Jackson and Lydia - and got rid of Matt, one cookie for Crazy Uncle, or you know, he would have deserved one cookie if he hadn't been a crazy bastard who just wanted to get control of the Kanima - and they had just managed to free both of them - and maybe killing Peter but Stiles wouldn't bet his adderall on it because this particular werewolf was worse than... than... cockroaches! and always seemed to come back.

The point was that Lydia and Jackson were both out of commission and unconscious. So was Boyd - he had nearly killed Peter himself but had backed off at the last moment, to let Derek take care of it instead, to let him stay their alpha, to get back the pack as it was before, as _it should be_. And Boyd had taken of handful of claws in his left side for his minute hesitation.

But they had managed, they had - somehow - won. Peter's body had just disappeared in the river - and, seriously, what could be more cliché than that?! Isaac and Erica had just both let themselves fall on the ground in an exhausted pile and Derek was taking a look at the long wound on Scott's arm - Peter had controlled him once, and hey, Stiles was all for better safe than sorry.

Stiles _was_ releasing his grip on his gun - his _dad_ 's gun, and oh God, something else he refused to think about - thinking ' _I can't believe we are all going to get out of this alive'_ when the Argent fell on them - _weeeell_ , not literally fell on them, but, you know, two dozens of hunters arrived guns and bows blazing, even if bows didn't exactly blaze.

They were exhausted, none of them could stand on their legs without shaking, except maybe Stiles... And Stiles was Stiles, he could maybe shoot and run but that was all - and even then he couldn't shoot because his right arm freaking hurt from the Kanima's claws and tail.

They would't survive this.

 

Stiles tried to make his brain work - _come on, come on, come on, think, focus_ \- but that did not work. He had nothing. No situation had ever seemed so bleak before, and that was saying something considering the two hellish years he had just spent.

"Give us Derek, and we'll let you live", and oh god, oh god, oh god he was hyperventilating because that was Allison. That was Allison, dressed like a _huntress bitch_. And, oh god, it _couldn't_ be Allison.

"Over our dead bodies".

And, seriously, he was going to sound like a very bad friend, but he really hadn't thought that Scott had it in him. Atta boy!

Except, you know, with the Argent, considering mama Argent had just committed suicide, it would be more all of them than none of them.

He had to do something, even if he did not know what exactly. So, of course, he started talking - and if there was something he knew how to do, even better than shooting or running, it was talking, he spent at least two thirds of his life talking, whether it be awake or asleep.

"Come on guys, we all are sensible people here. We just defeated crazy Peter and freed Jackson from his veeeeeery bad influence. Can't we just, like, celebrate? Or, you know, maybe not celebrate but at least have a truce, at least until tomorrow? Like Christmas truce? Even in WWII they had it, it should mean something to you, right?"

He would have kept talking - he could talk, and talk, and talk until they agreed with him or, you know, _fell asleep_ \- except some freaking hunter hit him on the neck. He didn't lose consciousness but he fell on the ground, _hard_. More exactly, he fell on his very very bruised arm and, for a few very long moments, his world consisted only of pain. He barely managed to catch the end of the words of the hunter who had _attacked him behind his back_ \- and wasn't that against the code or something? - telling him they didn't normally kill human beings but he would gladly make an exception for him. And, seriously, that wasn't even a good line. Hunters definitively sucked, even Peter had more class in the role of the big bad villain.

He had managed to raise himself on his knees - how could he feel so old in his bones when he was barely seventeen? - when he felt the barrel of a gun against his cheek. And, oh fuck, the metal was not cold like it was supposed to be, it was warm, warm as if it had been used not so long ago. He just didn't want to think about how long ago exactly, nope, definitively no.

"So, Stiles, open your eyes and look at what happens when you forsake your humanity."

That was Grandpa Argent behind him, and seriously, he gave him the creeps. No wonder he was Kate's father. They just had the same crazy vibes!

Still, Stiles obeyed - and not just because the gun was pushed with more and more force on his face, forcing him to follow the order, or else... - and thought for a moment he was going to be sick.

Erica had fallen and a totally morphed out Isaac was crouched over her, trying to protect her - with trying being the key world. He couldn't see Scott anywhere, and Derek... In the few seconds since he had raised his head, Derek had taken three bullets, three bullets doubtlessly filled with wolfsbane.

They were going to die. His pack. His family.

Gerard was talking, whispering something in his ear, but he couldn't hear. He couldn't hear anything beside his heartbeat.

_Baboum._

He was going to kill them all. If they let him live, he would avenge his family, he wouldn't rest until they had paid.

_Baboum._

A hunter was about to kill Derek - he was behind him, the coward, not only were the numbers and the situation in their favor, but they had to use such maneuvers on top of that - when Scott jumped on the would be attacker. Two seconds later, Scott was sent flying.

_Baboum._

Gerard suddenly pressed his fingers painfully in his arm - his hurt arm - and said angrily "don't even think about it!"

_Baboum._

And suddenly, _suddenly_ , Stiles was laughing, head thrown back, mouth open, eyes closed. He was honest to god laughing. He was chilled. He wasn't. It wasn't. _It wasn't him doing that_.

_Baboum._

Everybody suddenly stopped. Stopped and looked at Stiles. Except Stiles wasn't in control anymore.

 

Stiles laughed and Gerard's fingers released his arm as if of their own will. Stiles stood up and suddenly every hunter had their feet stuck to the ground. Stiles walked and guns stopped pointing him or his pack.

Then Stiles spoke. With a voice that was not his.

"Let me tell you a story."

Gerard - always, always Gerard, the so great hunter - raised another gun. He did not have time to lift it enough that his body was thrown back several meters. Some bones cracked, considering the noise the impact did, but he was still alive and conscious.

"That was not very polite. I literally waited centuries to tell this particular story."

He had just arrived near Isaac and Erica and kneeled next to them. Erica had her eyes closed but Isaac was growling pitifully, unable to recognize him as friend or foe in the near feral state he was in.

"Let's just get our facts straightened. I'm going to tell you something that history did not pass down."

He tenderly passed his fingers in Isaac's hair, like Isaac's big brother used to do when he had nightmares, like he used to do before he died in war. Isaac whimpered this time and let himself fall next to Erica, let Stiles approach her.

"When you murder a sorcerer, and I mean a sorcerer, not those hippies playing with herbs you have nowadays, his soul cannot rest."

He kept petting Isaac until he was sure that there were no wounds left.

"It is condemned to not live nor die. It gave me the opportunity to kill those that murdered me."

He put his hands on the worst wound on Erica's hip and started healing her whole body.

"But it made me watch as my son grew old and died, as my grandson did the same, all the way until my bloodline stopped existing."

And while he was at it, he cured her of her epilepsy. It was so marginal now that she was a wolf that it would not matter much.

"And then, one day, a fetus touched my soul."

He stood up gracefully and went to Boyd, crouched down next to him and started healing him.

"Stiles' mind wasn't even fully formed yet that he caught me and refused to let me go."

A small smile graced his lips as the green lights around his hands slowly dimmed. Now it was Scott's turn.

"Stiles has always been like that, even then. When he decides something or someone is shiny, he grabs them and never lets go."

Then, at last, it was Derek's turn. Derek, who had not once stopped looking at him.

"And he decided that this pack was his pack. This pack is now my family."

Lydia and Jackson, he wouldn't heal. They were not hurt badly physically and it would be bad timing if they woke up now.

"I think that Doctor Deaton told you to be careful. That there was something worse than werewolves or lizards in Beacon Hills."

He could already feel his pack looking, all awake and aware now. He could feel their surprise, their suspicions, their fear for Stiles.

"He was right. And you, dear hunters, just woke me up."

He finally stopped moving, standing at an equal distance between his pack and the Argent. And he grinned, the kind of grin that would not have been misleading on a bloodthirsty werewolf.

"Hurt my pack, my family, once again, and I will kill you. Then I will hunt down your family and every hunter you know, and every hunter they know. I will kill your wife Pete, and your two sons, that you've hidden in a lovely flat on the third floor of a building numbered 561. I will do the same thing to your sister Brad, and to your parents Kyle."

He could feel it, hear it in their thoughts. They were scared of him. They were scared of the fact they could not move their body against his will, that their memories were now his. Good. He increased their fear just a tiny bit.

"I will use up all my magic just to decimate you."

He stopped and smiled again.

"So why don't you start running now, before I change my mind about letting you have a second chance at living."

 

In a matter of seconds, all the hunters had fled. So they still had some good sense left, hu? He had somehow doubted that.

With his back turned to them, he concentrated on the members of his pack. They were all fine. Good.

He then focused on one of the guns that had been dropped during the fight and pointed it toward himself. The wound had to be painful enough that it would send his conscience back inside Stiles' soul, but not bad enough that it would put Stiles in danger.

The gun, floating in the air, took aim. And fired.

 

oOo

 

Stiles did not really feel much. He could hear a beeping, but it was a strange beeping, not playing any music he knew. And it was some kind of really boring music, like a heart monitor. Bah.

His body was kind of floating. That was strange, he could feel it but not really. He suddenly smiled. It was kind of funny too.

Then his two remaining non-drugged brain cells connected - and he had to really watch too much tv, because he could totally picture it, in a cartooned way - and he realized he had somehow taken some stroooonnng painkillers.

Something squeezed his fingers and could his hand do that on its own? He doubted it. The squeezing just continued, and from funny it became annoying. So he opened his eyes to tell his hand to stop doing that.

And looked at Gerard Argent's eyes. He whimpered - he _whimpered_. And where had he heard that noise before?

"Son, are you okay?" Even Gerard's voice was creepy.

So he turned his head to ignore him. And saw his dad. His dad, who wasn't anymore but still was the sheriff. His dad!

"Make him leave daddy."

His voice sounded childish even to his very drugged mind. He would have probably cringed if he had enough control on his facial muscles.

"Son, don't be ridiculous, I'm happy to see you finally waking up."

He closed his eyes - not seen, not there, his mum had taught him that about the monsters. Gerard scared the crap out of him, even though he was in a wheelchair, even though he was bandaged up. And what was this habit of calling him ‘son’. Thank you very much, he was not an Argent!

"Daddy..."

"I'm going to ask you to leave, Mr Argent. My son just had a heavy operation and needs rest."

Stiles finally let his mind blacken out. His dad was there and took care of everything.

 

oOo

 

Then came the non drugged anymore and so very painful days. They never said anything in series about how freaking painful it was to get shot! That was lying, they were lying on tv, wasn't it forbidden or something? He wanted to sue, nobody could keep fighting as if nothing happened with this kind of pain! His shoulder hurt even when he was just breathing!

 

And with the non-drugged days came the questioning days.

It was his dad, first. Well, kind of. Two days after he woke up, his dad sat next to him on his bed and looked at him way too seriously.

"When you come back home, we're going to talk, the two of us. We're going to sit down, and you're going to tell me the truth. You're going to tell me why you keep showing up at crime scenes, why you keep getting hurt, why you leave the house in the middle of the night way too often, why you're evading the truth every time I ask you questions, why Derek Hale spent the whole time you were unconscious in your room growling at every Argent who tried to enter, why Isaac, Erica and Boyd come visiting you twice a day, why you got shot."

"Wait, wait, Derek came to my room. Really?"

His dad just sighed. And gave him a half watery smile that just made him think about how awful a son he was.

"And why you only focus on the part about Derek."

 

oOo

 

Then came Derek.

His dad had finally gone home to take a hot shower and grab some clean clothes. It had reached a point where no enhanced sense of smell was needed to tell that his dad stank.

Of course, that was the moment when Derek came through the hospital's window - and it was the window because why use the door? It would be way too easy!

After a question about his health - and wow, seriously? Was Derek sick? Did he bang his head during the confrontations? - Derek sat on the chair next to his bed and looked at him - and why was  he the one being interrogated when he was the one who _got shot?_

"I need you to tell me what you remember from the night of the fight, anything you can remember."

_Lie_ , whispered a voice in his head, _don't tell him the truth_.

"Weeeell, that's a good question. I remember we kicked Peter's ass because we are awesome. And then the hunters arrived and I started talking. Wait, wait, wait, did I talk them into boredom? Because you should totally thank me then and..."

He kept talking without thinking. He kept lying. Why hadn't he told Derek the truth? He wanted to tell him the truth! He was the only one who could maybe help him figure all this out.

_Lie._

And he had.

" _I think that Doctor Deaton told you to be careful. That there was something worse than werewolves or lizards in Beacon Hills. He was right. And you, dear hunters, just woke me up_."

He remembered those words and suddenly shivered. Somehow the soul inside him had not gone back to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Probably the first part in a series.
> 
> Guys, English is not my first language. So if there are any mistakes, please drop me a message. Thanks for reading.


End file.
